


Barely An Elf

by AstroFighter



Category: The Shannara Chronicles (TV)
Genre: Angst, Sadness, Violence, father - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 05:25:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6225712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstroFighter/pseuds/AstroFighter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wil wasn't an Elf...and he never really learnt how to be a man. He just had to learn to live under the watchful eye of a madman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barely An Elf

**Barley An Elf**

 

**Prologue:**

 

Wil woke to a blade at his throat. He opened his eyes to his father; an Elf muttering under his breath. He had murder in his eyes and a grimace pulling at his face.

 

Wil's father was often like this...on nights when his mother was gone, and she couldn't tame the madness.

 

Wil was barely twelve...but this had happened before.

 

He raised his hands, uttering softly. “I'm your son.”

The blade pressed down further, until it gently nestled against his neck. The man pointed to the fireplace. “That's my son Demon. I won't let you near my wife, or the babe.”

“Don't kill me.” Panic was thick in his voice, but he was quiet, as if praying to the Eleven Gods.

His father paused. “Why should I spare you? You're kind only kill, at least Rovers have some good in 'em. You, you're just murderer. I've watched you set the ground abalze, tearing apart anything in sight. It didn't matter if they were women or child. It's all the same to you. Least you can do is let me kill you...so the voices can stop. So the stones stop their chattering. They want me to hurt you...and I need to, to save them.”

 

It was then his father turned to the right, watching an empty seat. He just stood their frozen, watching the rain hit the window…he seemed so still. Dropping the knife on his son, he forgot it was even there.

 

He rose, walking to the empty seat, and pulled it up to the fire. He watched flames lick the wood and chuckled, cradling his arms, cooing at nothing.

 

He looked back at Wil, grinning, “Druid, I can't believe you came back. Come, see my child. My wife, she birthed such a beautiful boy. Isn't he wonderful?”

 

Wil stood, rubbing his throat, he walked slowly to his father, watching his sway his arms. “Yes, they're a wonderful child.”

The man grinned, “I can't wait till he grows, I'll teach him to fish, and fight. It'll be grand.”

Wil's face screwed into disgust...and sadness. “Yes, I'm sure it will be.”

 

He rarely saw his father smile...and when he did, it was due to the madness. His father was only ever docile on the drink...otherwise he was quick to pull a blade. It wasn't often that his father spoke of him...and never that fondly.

 

Wil cherished moments like this, no matter how fleeting. Because he saw the father that was robbed from him, a good man that loved him.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment! It's always awesome :)


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